


Plane Attraction

by FrauKatzen



Series: Soul Goals [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Love, M/M, Plane sex, Protective Sherlock, Public Sex, Sexy Times, Soulmates, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrauKatzen/pseuds/FrauKatzen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or how my mad soulmate convinced me to get off on a plane. </p><p>Sequel to The Words We Wear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

The row was empty as he shuffled his carry-on into an overhead compartment. 36A. Window seat, surprisingly. When he had struggled to click his way through the online check-in (Why did they have to make everything so confusing these days?), he had opted out of choosing a place to sit in favor of escaping the airline’s website as quickly as possible. As it was, he ended up in the very last row of the plane next to the toilets. Not a very long flight, though. Munich to London. Should be a short one.

 

John settled down in his window seat (although there really was no window to speak of, truth be told), draped his coat across his body in a would-be blanket, and closed his eyes. Might as well get some sleep. He hadn’t slept very well in his hotel—it seemed that he got to live the German nightlife vicariously through the wall next to his bed for the last few days—and was looking forward to a chance to get some much-needed rest.

 

He was just about to doze off, the sound of the other passengers shuffling throughout the cabin white noise, when a body slammed down next to him, jolting John awake. He cracked his eyes partially, then all the way.

 

“What on earth?” John asked, sitting up straighter and making his coat slide down to his lap. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

For not more than a few inches beside him sat Sherlock Holmes, his mad soulmate. “Really, John, your observational skills need much improvement. I’ve been tailing you.”

 

“Tailing—” John spluttered, eyebrows joining in a comical V. “In _Munich_?”

 

“Well, yes,” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. John huffed incredulously. “After the pool incident, it became apparent you couldn’t go out on your own without getting kidnapped. Just thought I’d employ preventative measures to save us the time and resources it takes to find you.”

 

“Have you been following me all around Germany—through the medical conference?” John’s wave of irritation was competing with the warm feeling in his stomach surrounding Sherlock’s display of protectiveness. Some, perhaps, would find Sherlock’s actions disturbing; however, John rationalized (unbelievably, he thought, as he should be raving), they came from a place of affection. As eccentric and caustic as he was, Sherlock was also incredibly caring toward John.

 

Two months had passed since the pool and Moriarty, and they hadn’t been apart for longer than half a day at a time. John’s week-long medical conference was the longest they were to be apart (Only, not really: _He followed you, John_ ). Of course, they texted back and forth throughout the week, but Sherlock had assured John that he was quite busy with experiments and cold cases all week. So much for those lies.

 

“Don’t be repetitive, John—positively dull.”

 

John snorted. “I can’t believe you.” He paused a beat, then shook his head. “Actually, you know what? Nevermind. I most definitely can. You are insane. I should be furious. I’m a fully grown man, Sherlock. I’m completely capable of taking care of myself.”

 

Sherlock slumped in his seat childishly, and John had to suppress a fond smile. He should be angry. Should, but wasn’t. John let out a breath and decided to let it go. What else could he expect from Sherlock except the completely unexpected?

 

John rolled his neck so his eyes pointed up to the ceiling of the plane, leaning his head back and staring into the no smoking light. He reached over and pulled one of Sherlock’s hands into his, then over into his lap, entwining their fingers like cables in a jumper. He stroked the back of Sherlock’s hand tenderly with the back of his thumb.

 

“I love you, but you drive me crazy. You know that, right?”

 

When Sherlock spoke, his voice had lost its acidic edge. “You have to be safe, John.”

 

“I _am_ safe.”

 

“Only because I will always watch out for you.”

 

John turned his head, unsurprised to see Sherlock’s gaze on him. “I know you will. But I’m fine. I’ll be fine. You need to stop worrying so much. And stop following me. You _definitely_ should stop following me abroad.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

John sighed and smiled slightly. “I know, you nutter.”

 

Just then, the plane began to drive toward the runway and the air hosts and hostesses began to review the safety procedures. John and Sherlock ignored them, eyes still locked, fingers still bound tight together. “I missed you,” Sherlock said.

 

“How? You were with me all week. Not that I had any clue, mind.”

 

“Not in any way that mattered.” Sherlock’s eyes were dark and serious.

 

John’s body began to buzz softly with the familiar feeling he got whenever Sherlock said something particularly intense. “We’re together now,” John said, voice a murmur. The air hosts and hostesses had finished their part and were taking their seats. John barely noticed.

 

Sherlock gently released John’s hand, placing it palm down in between John’s legs before softly pressing down, firmly but slowly. John gasped, eyes fluttering shut. God, a week without a good wank and Sherlock had made him sensitive. And horny. He hadn’t even realized. Immediately, his sleepiness vanished. Sherlock pressed down harder.

 

They should not be doing this. John half-heartedly pushed at Sherlock’s hand. “Sherlock, someone will—”

 

Sherlock pulled his hand away only to slip it underneath John’s jacket and press down once more, the undulating pressure on John’s quickly hardening cock blissful.

 

“No they won’t,” Sherlock said in an undertone, his breath hitting John’s face intimately. “There is no one across the aisle or in front of us on either side. No one behind us, either, except the staff, but they’ll stick back there for the most part.” John gasped as Sherlock’s fingers crooked down to rub against his balls, not nearly firm enough for true satisfaction but the tease ramped up his arousal levels. “Let me touch you, John. I need it. You need it. I can’t go so long without you. It was torture watching you and not having you. Let me make you feel good.”

 

John stifled a groan, helpless to Sherlock’s ministrations and words. Sherlock said such private things rarely, and whenever he did John couldn’t help but go along with whatever the genius wanted. Besides, John nearly always wanted what Sherlock did. That was why they were soulmates, compatible in every single way.

 

Really, John didn’t have a choice in the matter.

 

John spread his legs and gave in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times TBC. . .


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smexy smex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y’all enjoy! ;)

John’s ears popped as he tried to focus on breathing smoothly. Sherlock’s hand was currently, and deftly, popping open the button on John’s trousers and zipping down the fly. When his hand reached into his briefs and pulled out his now-erect penis, John coughed slightly, the first contact of long fingers jolting and intense.

 

He glanced down to make sure no one could see anything, but John was completely covered, Sherlock’s hand barely noticeably moving. They had never done anything like this before, all their previous encounters confined to the privacy of 221b.

 

It was hot as hell. Only Sherlock’s fingertips rubbed up and down gently on John’s shaft, the light touch absolutely wonderful.

 

“Relax, John,” he heard Sherlock say distantly, blood rushing in his ears at the audacity of what they were doing.

 

“A bit—hard,” John said, voice strangled.

 

“That’s the point.”

 

John let out a nervous breath of a giggle, glancing up to look around the plane, realizing no one was near enough be able to see what they were doing. Unless someone came over and looked, John and Sherlock might just get away with this. John sighed and slumped in his seat, legs widening to push against the cabin wall and Sherlock’s bony knee.

 

“Good, John.” Sherlock’s fingers began to speed up, gradually gaining momentum, and John held back a groan, throat tight. John clenched the arm of the chair closest to the window tightly, the one nearest Sherlock retracted up. John grasped Sherlock’s thigh with his other hand. Their legs touched from hip to knee as Sherlock shifted minutely closer.

 

Sherlock’s movements were longer now, the up and down motions under John’s coat more obvious. The fingers swept through John’s now-leaking slit, rubbing the slickness around the spongy head and down lower. Sherlock’s palm made full contact now, the moisture to smooth out the movement and added skin-to-skin area heightening John’s arousal, and he suddenly discovered that he was alarmingly closer to climax than he had anticipated.

 

“Sherlock—” John barely managed to stifle a deep groan. He swallowed thickly. “I’m so close.”

 

He heard Sherlock let out a loud exhale from his nostrils, and John turned his head to look at his other half. Sherlock’s eyes were focused on him, pupils dilated. “John,” Sherlock said, voice nearly a whisper, “it’s okay. Come.”

 

Sherlock’s hand clenched firmly around the upper half of John’s prick, movements wet and unrelenting. God, they had to be so obvious at this point. The heat was enormous, John’s neck prickling with anticipation and sweat, eyes falling closed as he fell even further down into the cushion, legs pressing hard out on either side of him. He would have bruises on the outsides of his knees after this.

 

John’s chest rose and fell in quick bursts, the blood rushing in his ears as his balls tightened up against his body only to release in a wave of beautiful tension, and that was so good, the feeling incredibly intense and the pressure of Sherlock’s sweaty pre-cum-wet palm just _perfect_ —

 

John’s cock erupted in absolute bliss. Three long bursts of ejaculate, followed by several smaller emissions spewed forth in tiny deaths that felt like heaven. His eyelids were clenched tightly shut, mouth agape as wave after wave of bliss undulated through his groin, the pleasure rippling out through his body in a symphony of sexual completion. Sherlock’s hand finally slowed as John’s orgasm ebbed away. Fuck, that was good.

 

His jacket, John realized dimly as he came back to himself, had to be covered in come. He giggled weakly, boneless and weak with post-sex endorphins. He rolled his neck to look over at Sherlock, who was pulling his hand out from under John’s jacket.

 

Sherlock returned John’s goofy smile with one that was almost shy in nature, a direct contrast to their actions of the last ten minutes. John, who hadn’t yet bothered to tuck away his wilting cock, reached over with the hand nearest the window and pulled Sherlock forward by the ear gently, kissing him tenderly for a few seconds before letting go, allowing his hand to linger to push back Sherlock’s soft curls flat against his temple.

 

“You mad bugger,” John said, finally releasing Sherlock and grimacing slightly as he reached down to tuck himself away, feeling the cooling substance brush his knuckles. John sighed and folded up his jacket, come-side hiding.

 

Sherlock began to giggle, and John tried to hide his grin, failing miserably. John side-glanced, only to catch Sherlock’s eye for a brief second, both men laughing harder than ever.

 

By the time the food and drink caddy reached them, John was wiping a tear from his eye.

 

“Unbelievable,” he said, setting down the glass of orange juice on his now folded-down tray.

 

“Of course not,” Sherlock sniffed but the illusion was broken by the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. The air hostess pushed to caddy back, leaving them alone once more.

 

John, still unable to stop smiling, merely shook his head. “I’ll get you back later. I think that was enough excitement for one flight.” John lifted up the juice to his mouth, taking a swig.

 

“Next month, you have a conference in Dublin. I’ll accompany you.”

 

John choked, coughing and eyes watering as Sherlock’s laughter rang out.


End file.
